


Breach

by Scifilvr56



Category: Original Work
Genre: Civil War, F/M, Gen, Hostile take over, Reluctant, Romance, Science Fiction, Science Fiction Romance, reluctant romance, scifi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scifilvr56/pseuds/Scifilvr56
Summary: In the distant future, long after mankind had abandoned its dead solar system, a terrible civil war is about to break out in the Irkadian Confederacy. Governor Illiast Gadyre has a cunning mind and a thirst for power. With a mind to elevate his family to heights of which his father could have never dreamed, he must find an army, and to get an army, he must first find a wife.





	1. ONE

The sun slowly began to creep up over the darkened planet of Kovux, bringing a glimmer of light into the Consul's bedchambers. The screen was elevated and he stood in his sleeping linens, hands clasped behind his back, watching the sunrise. A sense of calmness had taken over him when he rose from his bed and padded across the cold floor on bare feet.

The sun continued to creep upward. The icecaps were illuminated with an orange glow from the fiery star. As the sunlight stretched across the planet, the calmness slowly began to seep from his muscles. Tension crept down his neck and shoulders.

The clock on the wall flickered. The numbers turned to eight o'clock. The lights turned on overhead, slowly adjusting in measured intervals. The doors opened behind him with a gentle swoosh and his attendant entered with freshly warmed towels. The Consul did not turn his head. He kept his gaze on the desert planet below.

 _Any other Consul, she might find relief in being taken from this terrible place,_ he thought grimly. He resolved himself. One could not let thoughts of morality cloud one's vision. Certainly not when they are so close.

"A bath, sir?"

"No, thank you, Drax. Start the shower." His voice was soft and low. Drax's eyes lingered on his master's back. The small man then turned to enter the adjoining bathroom. It was small. Only a shower/bath, toilet and sink were in the room. He pressed the button and the water shot out. Steam began to cloud the mirror. He exited the bathroom and strode quickly across the room to the wardrobe.

"The black, sir?"

"The blue. I am to meet my bride today."

Drax removed the blue coat from the closet. Dark blue, like the icy waters of the southern poles. He felt a pang of home sickness. They would return home soon, and his beloved Consul would have a confederation army at their backs.

"Sir?" Drax asked. He paused a long while. The Consul stared down at the desert planet. He suddenly turned. His blond brow was elevated, his pale grey eyes wide in surprise.

"I'm sorry?"

"The shower is ready, sir, your clothing spread out."

"Ah. Yes. Go, Drax, I will call when I am ready to dress."

Drax left the room. The door closed with the familiar whoosh and clicked shut. The Consul kept his gaze on the planet. He could see the dark little smudge on the center of the planet. The capital city, referred to by the locals as Vlux, but known in the Confederacy as Volaris. It was where his future wife would be. Was she sixteen now? Or seventeen? He was not sure.

He rubbed his hand over his face and turned away from his window. He hit the button on the wall and the screen hummed softly. It lowered down to block out the oppressive glare of the orange globe.

He enjoyed the hot spray of the water but he was quick and efficient. He shaved himself. He would never allow another to put a blade to his throat, no matter how much he trusted them. He gazed at himself in the mirror. He was young, hardly past thirty five, with fine porcelain skin and angled features. He wondered if his bride would find him pleasing. His kind were not often seen passed the Cridsynian Passage.

He jammed a button as he left the bathroom. He ruffled a towel over his damp hair. When Drax came back in he tossed it to the side.

"A Great House will require the co-mingling of colors," the Consul told his attendant. Drax's blue eyes examined him thoughtfully. He turned to collect his black undershirt as the Consul put on his pants.

"I am unsure the colors will mingle well, sir," Drax said. The Consul put on his shirt. He tucked it into his pants and fasted in his belt.

"Orange…" he considered. Drax placed him into his tunic of thick, rigid wool. He had read reports of the temperatures on Kovux, but they were not temperatures he could truly comprehend. "If only it were red. Burgundy. That would go quite nicely, don't you agree?"

"Unfortunately, the color is orange, sir, and an ugly one at that."

"The color of the sand…"

Drax came around and placed the black belt around his middle. He clasped the silver buckle himself. He checked it with a thumb. The buckle was directly above his belly button. Drax went to the safe and removed the silver box that contained his medals. Drax examined his master as he pinned on the first rectangle.

"The People of Atroul will be well happy to have their Governor married to a Queen." His voice was high for a man. He was inquisitive and one for observation. His voice held a tremor of amusement. The Consul darted his silver gaze downward in a cold glare.

"The People of Atroul will be well happy if this war goes on for generations." He grumbled, fussing with his cufflinks. "The money I've spent on their refractors…"

"It will be well worth it in the end, sir."

The Consul fell silent. Drax examined him as he added the next rectangle. His face was tense. Like taut rubber. His skin was so smooth. Like a perfect sheet of ice. His eyes were erratic as they darted from wall to wall. He was so very unlike his father. He had his father's ruthless cunning, brutal efficiency, and could make the hard decisions for the betterment of his people and his house. The difference lay in the emotional toll it took on his soul. He could be ruthless but never cruel. What he may need to do before the next rotation of Kovux was pleasant weighed on him. There was a cracking from the far wall. The Consul jabbed at the receiver in his pocket.

"A communication coming through from Volaris, your Grace. They've picked us up on orbit," his chief advisor spoke from the comm. The Consul nodded before he realized the camera was not operation.

"Thank you, Zandyre. I will be down to receive it shortly."

"Your grace." The speaker on the wall crackled off.

"They say she is cunning. Quite intelligent."

"Federation Royalty are expected to be highly educated. The young queen would have been sent away to a training ship at a very young age before returned to her planet."

"We share a language?"

"Her Majesty will know the Old Tongue."

A sardonic smile spread across the pale features of the Federation Consul. "I might've paid closer attention in my schooling."

"Very good, sir," Drax smiled. He fastened the last of the medals onto his chest. The Consul took in a deep breath.

"I miss the cold, Drax. I miss the dry, frigid air and the blistering winds as they bound off the ice."

"We will be home soon, sir, with an army larger than any we have ever seen with us. And you will take what is yours."

The Consul considered once more, for the hundredth time since they began their year long journey to Kukux, if he had done the right thing. If what he was about to do was justified. Drax removed a small comb from his pocket and ran it through his master's hair. He wore it as short as was possible for a nobleborn on Altononen. It was well manicured, cut just above the ears, and carefully combed back.

"Very handsome, sir." Drax put the comb back into his pocket before retrieving a lint roller. He gently rolled it over his shoulders. The Consul walked out the doors, listening to the _woosh_ for the third time that morning. He walked down a long hallway. He lived on the same floor as his admiral and generals. They would all be in the com room already.

He got to the elevator. Drax followed silently. The Consul looked down at his uniform. It was a dark blue. No, Orange would not do, royalty or not.

The elevators opened and he walked down the white hallways. As expected, his Admiral and four generals were seated around the table. He greeted them with a single nod. He stopped at the end of the table, facing the com screen.

"Who is it I have on com?"

"The Queen, Governor," Admiral Rantonnan answered. They were wearing the dark blue military uniforms of Altononen and not the simple black Confederation uniforms they were entitled to as advisors to a Consul. Rantonnan especially, preferred their Planetary titles and uniforms.

The Consul quirked an eyebrow at his Admiral's response. "The Queen?"

"With a slew of advisors in her ear, no doubt," General Horrens added.

"Send her through." His voice was curt and clipped. His orders were obeyed. A button was punched to reinitiate the call. There was a moment as the Queen and her advisors readied on the other side. The screen buzzed, blinked three times, and then flickered on.

The screen showed a single woman in an ornate orange gown, sparkling with precious desert jewels. It was sleeveless. Her arms were long and slender. Her skin was tanned, though he knew well from his reading it was the natural hue of her skin, and if she were to go out into the sun for any meaningful amount of time, it would grow darker. Her eyes were dark, her hair black. Her lips were full, her nose slender. Her beauty was breathtaking. Her beauty and elegance did not mask her age. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. If he could get her out of the grasps of her advisors, she may not be hard to break.

"Royalty never speaks first."

It was a male voice that came over the intercom. The Queen remained perfectly still. She was so still, so stony, he thought he might be looking at a still frame. A quick blink and he realized he was not.

"It is a sign of respect to allow another to speak first in our custom," the Consul answered, praying his pronunciation of the Old Tongue was not so terrible as to cause embarrassment.

"And yet you are in Kukux," a second male voice responded.

"Indeed, I am. Your Majesty, I am Governor Illiast Gadyre Aliaronnen of Altononen , Second Consul of the Irkadian Confederacy, and I am here on a diplomatic mission."

"Have you a title you prefer?" the Queen asked. Her command of the Old Tongue was impressive, even to a man with as rusty a command as he. He considered her question carefully. What could be a simple question inspired by a desire to demonstrate respect to an important visitor, could just as easily be a carefully considered test to ascertain an important aspect of her character. She would have a very good understanding of how the Irkadian Confederacy and how it worked. She would also understand the power of a Consul. She might not understand the power of a Governor.

"Governor Gadyre your Majesty."

Another male voice from off screen, "The loyalty of these governors is to planet first, your Majesty, Confederation second."

"My loyalty is to the betterment of the galaxy and if I might, a Governor is addressed by heads of state, not faceless advisors off screen."

There was a rumble off screen. It cut short immediately with a quick lift of the Queens hand.

"We are not often met with unscheduled visits from an unregistered vessel. Certainly not one of Irkadian design. My counselors apologize for their insolence."

"Their apology is accepted."

"What is the purpose of this diplomatic mission of yours, Governor Gadyre."

"If given permission to land, I believe it is a conversation best had in person."

"Your Majesty – "

The Queen cut off the eager advisor with a sharp cut of the hand. Her lips pressed together and her dark eyes grew fiery. _Ah, a temper_ _in this young beauty._ It appeared she was not so easily controlled by her advisors, at least when before other heads of state.

"Why would I grant you permission to land before knowing if it was worth my time?"

"The Irkadian Confederacy finds itself in the midst of a civil war, a civil war most terrible, Your Majesty. I have come to you for help."

"I've no reports of civil war within Irkadia." Her dark eyes cast a stony glare around her unseen advisors. Her face, hard as rock, and her eyes, cold and alert, turned their attention back to him. "And you come to me as Governor or Consul?"

_Quite a clever girl._

"I believe I have given you my preferred title already."

"Indeed, you have. And so Governor Gadyre, have you come to speak with Queen Paliyetex or the future Empress Kaliyetos?"

He thought very carefully. _Tread carefully, Illiast._

"A future Empress can do me little good. A Queen may help me now."

She considered. Her eyes were scanning the advisors in her room. Someone was talking to her. Her eyes flickered back to Illiast.

"You may bring a landing party of five. Pick them as you wish. The landing pad will hold upwards to twenty tons."

"I will bring ten for my own safety."

"We will not harm a Consul of the Confederacy that has come to us on a diplomatic mission," she said.

"And I do not doubt, your Majesty. I merely consider it a matter of policy. You understand, of course."

She did understand, but she was not clearly displeased. Her lips pinched together and she lifted her chin.

"Ten. No more. We will send you landing coordinates. We will receive you in two hours."

The screen went blank. He leaned against the table with one hand and waited. No one said a word. He glanced to Ragmyre in the corner. A few moments more and then, "we're clear. Signal lock out." They could not be spied upon.

He looked around at the faces of his advisors. Admiral Rantonnan was a white haired man with dark wrinkles etched into his leathery skin. He had served under lliast's father and was the last of the old regime left in place. He was fiercely loyal and had been one of the leading forces behind the Altononian purge. He leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin on his lips.

"A young girl, sixteen I'd wager. No older than eighteen. A puppet Queen, clearly."

"That will only make it harder," General Horrens lamented. He was not Altononian. Illiast had met him in flight school as a boy and become close friends. Horrens, who had been plucked off the prison planet Orian as a boy after showing great genius, had no loyalty to anything or anyone, save of course, the dear friend that elevated him to a lordship. He would follow Illiast into the abyss without a second thought.

"Not if we wipe out every one close to her. She'll do as we say to remain alive. The Federation has a fanatical devotion to their leaders."

Illiast cast Rantonnan a critical stare but it went by unnoticed.

"If she were Empress that would work, _perhaps,_ " Horrens said, his dark eyes darted from Rantonnan to Illiast. His lips, too thin for his face, were pursed, his nose large and hooked, had flaring nostrils. He had disliked this plan from the beginning and had many a time counseled Illiast against it in private. "Alas, we've an Emperor to concern ourselves with. Federation forces will not come to our aid if we slaughter a planetary government and enslave its queen."

"The moment a child is in her, the Federation Forces are ours."

"Not with the Emperor living," General Driat added. "We'll face the entire brunt of the Federation so he can get his daughter back."

"Only if he finds out _before_ a child is conceived," Rantonnan countered.

"Before the child is _born_ ," Horrens clarified. "The parentage takes effect upon first natural _breath_. If the move is made, we have nine months we must survive before His Grace has a claim to the Throne. That's if we can even get her off planet."

"We will get her off planet," Rantonnan blustered. He was insulted his plan might be doubted.

"Do we need too?" Everyone fell silent as Illiast spoke. His voice was that familiar soft, low rumble. Thoughtful, almost menacing. He considered a moment longer. No one dare speak until the signal was given. He did not give it them. He looked up and scanned his advisors. "If we are being invited in… of course they will allow us to stay until the window opens to return to dock. Two days, with the rotation of Kovux. Enough time to slip in a team undetected. Remove the troublesome advisors, shut down the palace, allow the Queen to make infrequent messages to her people."

"There are a lot of unknown variables in this plan. How often does she speak with The Emperor? How often does she walk the streets. How often do the people see her? Will the palace staff be able to get a message out. Will –"

"I am well aware of the risks, Ellorys," Illiast cut him off. "We have little choice."

"I like it better than trying to get he off planet," Horrens said, leaning back in his chair. "We can keep the old plan in place, should be we be discovered, we can get off planet. It buys us time."

"The Emperor has already been alerted to our presence here. Federation Forces are no doubt in route. It buys us nothing. We must get her off planet," Driat dug in his heels with Rantonnan. The two were from the older school of Millitary. They stuck together.

"They're unlikely to send more than two or three ships for a single freighter."

"How far are we from Valar?" Illiast asked.

"About four months, light speed," Ragmyre answered in the corner.

"And the closest surveyed outpost."

"Imperial?"

"Imperial."

"Eighty three days."

"They rely solely on Planetary forces for the protection of the Queen," Illiast asserted. "They're too spread out."

"The planetary forces are well enforced, your Grace," Horrens cautioned. Illiast spoke directly to Horrens.

"Do you think, realistically, we could keep the palace locked down long enough to produce a child?"

Rantonnan glared at Horrens from across the table. He and Driat shared a bitter glance.

"Realistically?" he paused and said begrudgingly, "It's possible. I agree, the Emperor will dispatch a ship or two. The outposts will be mobilizing. But she is dependent upon the planetary force at her command. With scouting ships along the outer system, we'll have plenty of time to evacuate should a significant force arrive. The key is knowing how available the palace is to the public. If we arrive on planet, and suddenly the palace shuts down and the Queen is nowhere to be seen… well… someone will alert the military."

"A decision will made after my audience with the Queen," Illiast decided. "Rantonnan, Driat, Ragmyre, Horrens, you will accompany me. I want Friad's team on security. He can pick his four."

He pushed off the table. Everyone got to their feet, arms at their side. He exited the room, mind racing and muscles aching.

* * *

Saphyria Vanyek Dineagos Paliyetex Kaliyetos III sat in her chair, heart pounding. The crown on her head had the muscles in her neck aching. The jewels draped across her neck and arms were heavy. The screen was still retracting into the ceiling and her advisors were arguing amongst themselves. She should have demanded that the newcomers come immediately. She hated be so trussed up.

"Pulok," she said softly. Her counsellors fell silent. "Have ten rooms prepared, warm and cold water brought to the rooms, and a meal readied."

The attendant gave a low bow and backed from the room to do her bidding.

"No word of a civil war, your Majesty, none at all!" Duke Xagos thundered, fat and red faced. Her eyes darted over to him, burning hot. He would never have dared spoken out in such a way to her father. "There is something not right about these newcomers. We must not let them into your majestic presence!"

"Allow us to receive them for your Majesty," Duke Vegyet implored, coming out and bowing deeply before her. "We shall provide you with a most detailed report."

 _Because I am not trusted to rule,_ she thought bitterly. _Because you think I am a child._

"I will receive the newcomers, Lord Vegyet, and there are many reasons news of civil war have not yet reached us, Lord Xagos."

"My most glorious Queen," Xagos said, coming forward in a supplicating bow, "We must be careful with these Confederate Agents. They are devious. Manipulative. They do not share our respect for your ancient line. They do not understand the Grace in your person. They –"

"I trust adequate respect will be given," she replied coldly. "I will not insult a diplomatic convoy by refusing to admit them in my presence. Dulos, water."

Dulos, the sunbaked servant came hurrying up the steps to her throne. He placed the cool glass to her lips. She took only a small sip before waving him away. Relief of her bladder would be quite impossible until she was out of her ceremonial dress.

"Your Majesty, we mustn't give these Confederates too much room. These Confederates… There is a reason our interaction with them is minimal."

"Distance, only, certainly," Raygyet interjected. A staunch royalist. He came forward with a bow. "An intelligent alliance with the Confederation would serve Kovux well."

"How so, My Lord Raygyet?" she asked. Raygyet was a tall, bronze man with jet black hair and large black eyes. He reminded her of a sand hawk, but he was clever, smart, and loyal. His attempts to manipulate her were far scarcer than her other lords. Her natural inclinations for the care of her people most suited his ambitions.

"The Confederation in Irkadia has a reputation for their terraforming technology, their ability to preserve resources in manners we could never dream. The potential for _water_ on Kovux –"

"Kovux has more than enough water to make the need to enter into any sort of agreement with Irkadians completely –"

"I believe Lord Raygyet was not quite finished, Lord Xagos."

Lord Xagos flushed, but backed away with a bow.

"Your Father, may his soul go on in eternal glory, has always been reluctant to enter into any sort of trade agreement with the Confederates. This news of civil war… well, it might provide us with a valuable opportunity. And… if I may be so bold, Your Most Gracious Majesty, you will be our Eternal Empress soon enough –"

"Treason, sir! To imagine the Emperor's death –"

"I made no reference to our Emperor's death, only an inevitability," Raygyet cooed with raised hands. "And given this opportunity… it would be wise not consider all alternatives."

"You think there is an alliance here to be made?" she asked.

"I certainly do, your Majesty. Of course, we must evaluate their position carefully. We do not know which side our visitors are on."

"I will not aid traitors."

"Of course not, and so it is something that must be looked into. I merely caution your Majesty that there are avenues to be explored."

"The Confederacy, your Majesty," Lord Xagos said, stepping up before her again and casting Raygyet a nasty glare. "Does not share our values… they do not have our ancient traditions."

"The Federation scouts left Zarinth some one thousand years ago. The Confederation was formed… three hundred and twenty eight years ago. Not exactly a government in it's infancy," she mused.

"The Federation, your exalted line, has been in existence for ten _thousand_ years, Your Majesty. In comparison, it is a babe that has yet to discover its purpose," Lord Vegyet offered somewhat timidly. "And the formation of this so called _confederation_ was created in direct violation of your exalted ancestor's decree."

"The war having been fought, do we reject the opportunity for growth now?" she asked.

"Your Majesty, these people do not value our Royal line. They do not recognize your infallibility, your ties to the Deity Everlasting. You are simply another ruler to these newcomers. You must remember that."

"I _must_ do nothing," she snapped. The twenty odd men in the room dropped to their knees. Her face flushed red with rage and she gripped the arms of her throne so hard her knuckles turned white. She ran her eyes over the robed men. Orange, red, yellow of all different shades. Their fingers were covered in golden rings, rubies and diamonds and sapphires hung around their necks.

"What do we know of this… Governor Gadyre?" she asked after regaining her composure.

In the back of the room, Duke Kovosuk stood. He remained bent at the waist, a monitor in his arms. "Approach, Lord Kovosuk."

"Governor Illiast Gadyre Aliaronnen of Altononen , Second Consul of the Irkadian Confederacy. Atlononen is an ice planet, barren, habitable only with extreme climate control. Eighth planet from it's sun, only habitable planet in the system. Military, 500,000, independent – 100,000 are pledged to Confederate security. The Aliaronnens have been the ruling family since Federation Scouts entered the system – "

"They are not of Federation blood?" she asked.

"It is hard to say. I am certain their was intermarriage. Alliances to form."

She nodded. "Continue."

"The Aliaronnens have been the ruling family since Federation Scouts entered the system. They were of minor importance in Irkadia until Altyse Gadyre Aliaronnen, Illiast Gadyre Aliaronnen's Grandfather, was instrumental in suppressing an uprising in the Military Moon, of… excuse me, your Majesty, Military Moon of Ailayalaryse…. Ail-Ailay –"

"Move on, Lord Kovosuk."

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty. He was elected as Praetor the following year. His son, Governor Gadyre's father, Rayse Gadyre Aliaronnen, was elevated to Fourth Consul. He died ten years ago, leaving our Governor Gadyre to succeed his father at the age of twenty four. He is considered a Unitarian politically. He believes in strong central government and has often spoken out against the Confederacy's allowances for cessation. From our most recent reports, he is very popular with his people."

"A Unitarian, what does that mean?" she asked.

"A single leader, absolute, your Majesty."

"They have a council now?"

"An arcane senate of sorts, Your Majesty."

"And who does he wish to lead this Unitarian government of his? Himself, I suppose?" Xagos asked. Her face burned. She drummed her fingernails against the throne chair.

"We will not know until we treat with them," she said. "But I plan to hear them. Reygyet, Xagos, Kovosuk, Vegyet, Dilyetos and Potyex, stay. Everyone else, dismissed."

The rest of the men filed out silently. She leaned back, letting her head rest against the large throne back behind her. She closed her eyes and let out a small breath. "Water."

Dulos hurried back up with the cup. She took a sip and he retreated once more.

"He used the word _Tyetich_ in the old tongue, for Governor," she spoke again once her lips were wet. "You use the word _Kayox,_ Lord Kovosuk. Why?"

"As you well know, there are two words to use for Governor in the Old Tongue. _Tyetich_ and _Yrigishy. Tyetich_ implies absolute power, while _Yrigishy_ suggests a more… _democratic_ rule. While Governors in the Confederacy are not elected, they are not that primitive, they do not have the same absolutism one would imagine with the word _Tyetich_. In our own more modern tongue Kayox… the name of a desert chieftain, is far more accurate than _Daotsh_. The four words your Majesty, none of them translate directly into the other. Their word, _Garyseen,_ has no true translation. The differences of languages separated by one thousand years and multiple civilizations, will make true understanding of their motives difficult."

"But his use of the word _Tyetich,_ that is telling…" she mused softly.

"Telling, indeed, Your Majesty," Xagos grumbled.

"You will continue to use _Tyetich_ in the Old Tongue, and now use _Daotsh,_ if speaking Imperial Basic. We should take care not to insult our visitors."

"Very good, Your Majesty," Kovosuk bowed.

The heavy, massive doors on the far side of the throne room slowly opened. The gold plating reflected brightly in the sunlight shining in from the massive windows behind her back. Inside stepped the Captain of the Guard, Daeyx.

"The Newcomers have landed, Your Majesty, they will arrive in the palace within five minutes."

"Their guard is to remain unarmed in the throne room. If they agree to disarm, all may enter. See them in upon arrival."

"You Glorious Majesty," Daeyx said, bowing low. He exited.

"Kovosuk. Customs of which I should be aware."

He jabbed at his monitor before he began to speak. She tried to pay attention. She was quite bored with her advisors. She was eager for the newcomers to arrive. This Governor Gadyre intrigued her. His eyes and hairs were of the kind she had read of, but never seen, certainly not in person. She rested her head back again, hoping to find some relief for her neck before she had a foreign audience.

"Dulos?" Water was placed to her lips. She lifted her hand to itch just above her eyebrow. The bracelets on her wrists jungled loudly. She settled the arm back down. She was nervous. She was always nervous when faced with foreign diplomats.

Her captain of the guard walked in first. He was a tall man with a pink, jagged scar down the side of his bronzed face. He was dressed in the short linen kilt, his orange robe draped over a single shoulder and fastened tightly at his waist. His boots were brown leather. On his back he had his spear, capable of emitting a beam of electricity strong enough to liquidate a person's insides, and at his side, a phase rifle.

Behind him, she saw the newcomers enter. The Governor came in first. _Tyetich._ The side of her mouth flickered as if to smile, but she composed herself and continued to watch with a face void of all expression.

The Governor was far more impressive a man in person. He was tall and broad shouldered. He was skin was white like snow, his eyes the strangest she had ever seen. Grey, almost blue, but not. Colder than that. His hair was so blond, she might have thought it was white in certain light. She had heard of such coloring before, but she had never seen it. If he were of lesser value, she might have beckoned him closer so she could examine him more closely.

He was dressed strangely. Interaction with the Confederates was rare and since she assumed her role as Queen of Kovux, there had been no Confederation visits to the Federation. He wore a thick dark blue tunic that ended at the waist. Around his middle was a black belt. His pants were black, and up to his knees came black leather boots, perfectly polished. On his chest was an impressive collection of medals. He had four advisors behind him, dressed similarly to him, two flanking either side. Behind them, dressed all in black, was his security detail. Mostly all of them had the same pale complexion. They almost looked rather sickly.

"You now stand in the most glorious presence of Her Majesty Saphyria Vanyek Dineagos Paliyetex Kaliyetos III! Approach to the yellow line and bow!" Daeyx ordered.

The men fanned out and obeyed. All bowed, save the Governor. He remained standing, hands clasped behind his back, a small smile on his face.

"You will bow, sir, before her Eternal Glory!"

His pale blue eyes were pinned on hers. She felt a little bolt of elation shoot through her at the gaze. She kept her face neutral and held his gaze.

"A Governor does not bow," he answered. _Tyetich._ She was tempting to allow her lips to curl upward, but she did not allow it. His voice was soft and low. It had a menacing timber to it, but was at the same time, almost soothing.

"No one speaks to the Queen who does not bow!" Xagos blustered.

"No one speaks to the Queen, unless the Queen decides she wishes to speak to _them_ ," she said. "And I have decided I want to speak to this _Tyetich._ "

He gave a smile.

"I am honored beyond belief, your Majesty, you are too kind to receive us so graciously."

"It is not everyday we receive visitors from Irkadia," Xagos said, coming out a step or two, but he remained outside the yellow box. The Governor looked over at him in surprise.

"Indeed, I would be surprised to here otherwise. Two years is quite the journey."

She opened her mouth to speak to him.

"So you travelled two years… and for what did you travel two years?" Xagos asked. The Governor looked from Queen to Advisor back to Queen, pale eyebrow quirking.

"As I said earlier, our Confederation has fallen into a civil war most terrible. I've come to request aid."

"And what is it you want exactly?" Reygyet asked. "Weapons, ships, soldiers, money…?"

"Is it inter-planetary or amongst the senate?" Xagos asked, voice overlapping with Reygyet's.

"One cannot separate interplanetary and Council relations. They are too closely entwined. And our request for aid is… complicated."

Saphyria felt her skin flush. It started at her collar bone and slowly crept up her neck, over her cheeks, and extended over her scalp. His eyes darted to hers and then back to her advisors.

"And how is it that we have heard no news of war?" Xagos asked.

"We were the first ship out," the Governor answered. "Since our departure, we have received reports that war has indeed, begun to ravage Irkadia."

"What factions are formed?"

This time, the Governor did not so much as take the time to glance at her this time around.

"Please, gentlemen, I will be happy to give you a full history of the current political climate in Irkadia, but it is quite a history."

"Yes… yes… a conference room will be far more comfortable," Vegyet said, looking to Xagos.

"Indeed, a long history, I am sure. Shall we move to the conference room?" Reygyet offered.

"Dulos, prepare the conference room." It was an order from Xagos. The Governor smiled at his advisors.

A pulse of rage course through her. She lifted a hand and slammed her hand down on the arm of her throne. A cry burst from her lips, "I am the Queen! I give the orders and I make the decisions! And I have not decided anything!"

Her advisors fell to their knees. She cast them a vicious glare. Her eyes finally settled on the Governor.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," he said. "It seemed to me your council was taking control of this meeting."

"I have no council. I have counselors. I am the Queen!"

"Your Majesty –" Xagos groveled.

"Silence! I did not say speak." Her voice was like the cold hard stone one found in an ancient cavern.

"I am here at Your Majesty's pleasure," Governor Gadyre said. He gave the slightest bows of his head. Her lips quirked. He looked so very strange standing there, dressed in clothing far too warm for the desert planet she loved so much, skin pale, hair pale, eyes pale. She liked the color of his tunic. She'd never seen that color blue before.

"I have grown weary of this." Her neck hurt so badly. She rose. Her advisor's sunk lower. They stretched out their arms on the floor. She checked to make sure the Governor observed the action. He had. She slowly descended the stairs of her throne. The Governor watched her with a gleam in his eye she knew well and had been taught early on her life to seek it out. The subtle twinkle of admiration, ready to make its split toward adoration or lust. Her confidence returned to her. She considered stopping three steps up. It would have kept them at the same eye level. She decided it would make her appear even more the child and so she continued down the steps. She was not sure if she regretted the decision. He towered over her.

"My Counsellors mistake my youth for ignorance. I trust you will not make the same mistake."

"I would not dream of it."

"Dulos, ready my receiving room. Governor, you and your companions will be brought to your rooms. You are more than welcome to remain in the palace until the next flight window. A funny planet, our Kovux. It can fluctuate quite a bit."

"You are far too kind, Your Majesty."

"You and I will discuss your presence here over dinner. Seven o'clock."

"As you wish Your Majesty."

She could feel her counselor's anxiety, but none dare say a word. She turned to the attendant. "Dulos."

"Your Majesty." He bowed deeply. She turned on her heel and walked toward her personal entrance and exit. Once the door was closed behind her, she took off her crown, and tossed it at an attendant.

* * *

Xagos waddled into the inner hall of the counselor chambers. His face bulged red, ready to burst. A vein pulsed above his eyebrow. Underneath the fatty deposits of his neck, blood pulsed loudly with violent burst. His meaty hands trembled as he fisted his robes and heaved them back into place.

Vegyet followed behind. Red, itchy splotches erupted over his face and neck. He twisted a ring around his finger and looked back at Reygyet.

Reygyet had a little smile on his face. He walked, arms at his side, appearing as though he was gliding on air. Vegyet turned back around, fighting the scowl from his face.

"Should we –" Kovosuk began. Reygyet turned and placed a hand to his shoulder.

"Gather your thoughts, friend, think things through. Then speak." Reygyet patted the shoulder and stepped through the door to the Counselor communication room. They took their seats in the inner chamber. The ceilings were high. The walls were covered with tapestries, gold ceiling to floor, depicting the glorious history of the Paliyetex line. Xagos stared at one such tapestry, reminding himself of the infallibility of their glorious Queen.

"This _Koyox_ is a slippery one," Dilyetos mused softly.

" _Tyetich,"_ Reygyet corrected.

" _Tyetich,"_ Vegyet sneered.

"The Queen has given an order," Potyex murmured.

"The Queen is seventeen," Xagos reminded them.

"Careful," Reygyet cooed with a smile on his face.

"Will we have access to her before her meeting with this Governor? She must be cautioned for his true purpose here," Dilyetos interjected.

"Which is?" Potyex asked.

" _Marriage,"_ Xagos snapped. "It is clear as day. Looking at her like a desert hawk watches a mouse below. These _confederates._ He will not touch my queen, my the Eternal Goddess stay strong within her heart."

"Would a marriage of this sort be such a bad thing?" Reygyet asked. "Would we not want to retake the Irkadians?"

"And hold them how?" Vegyet asked. "Two years at lightspeed, how would we maintain trade? How do we maintain control? It is nonsense. It is unrealistic. To waste an Empress on some… some… confederate governor?"

"If he is here in the midst of civil war, he may be more than that quite soon," Reygyet countered silkily. "And who else will our Empress marry but a planetary leader? You'd see her marry a Deep Spacer?"

"Surely not!" Xagos blustered.

"Indeed, not while his son is still an eligible bachelor," Potyex cackled softly. Dilyetos smirked.

"The Queen will not marry without advice," Vegyet cut off Xagos' indignant retort.

"I worry…" Kovosuk began softly, slowly, carefully, "A man… in fine form, exotic, charming… alone in the presence of our Glorious Queen… and as infallible, as intelligent, as educated but… young… impressionable…"

"You think she'd ruin herself with him in a single meeting?" Reygyet's disdain was clear.

"No. But young girls often grow feelings for handsome, charming men, and this Governor must be treated as though he is the most cunning, the most devious among them. Otherwise, we risk underestimating him. The Aliaronnens are a powerful family. Do not let the state of their planet distract you from this fact."

"Your information on this family… when was it last updated?" Potyex asked with a bitter smile. Kovosuk flushed.

"As recent as space travel allows." Kovosuk replied coldly.

"Which means older than two years, since you had no knowledge of a civil war."

"We are assuming that he is telling the truth," Dilyetos responded. "He arrives in a single ship… no reports of civil war within the confederacy. We should have heard something."

"The Emperor might have word… it might not yet have reached us."

"Daeyx has sent word to the Emperor of this arrival?"

"He has," Kovosuk was pouting.

"I want to speak to the Queen before her meeting with this Governor," Xagos said again. "Where is Dulos? Have him make the request."

"Send Veros. Dulos is occupied."

"A close eye on these confederates. A very close eye. Speak to the girls before they're sent in. We want them talking."

"A report sent to the queen afterward?" Dilyetos asked. He was jamming at his monitor. Xagos took a long pause. He considered carefully. He took a long breath.

"We will reconvene before the Queen sees the report. She uh… she should … we must not bother her Glorious Majesty with this trifling. If there is something to report we will… go the Queen. For her own convenience…"

"Of course, her own convenience. We mustn't bother her unnecessarily," Vegyet agreed.

"It is for her own safety. And Convenience," Potyex agreed. Dilyetos turned his dark gaze toward Reygyet. Reygyet was looking at Xagos, a small smirk on his face.

"Safety and convenience," he said, voice silk.

"Safety and convenience," Kovosuk murmured. Dilyetos tilted his head in a quick jerk, shoulders lifting, and pressed his thumb to the reader.

"Safety and convenience."

Reygyet stood, pulling his rob around himself. His robe was decorated in thick columns of orange and red, separated by the thinnest layer of golden embroidery. His bracelets jingled. "I will go speak to the girls…"

"I am sure you will," Potyex replied dryly.

Reygyet walked out of the room and down the hall, the smile never leaving his face. The walk down to the slave quarters was no more than five minutes, but with his lazy walk, it took him nearly ten.

The slave quarters were large and comfortable. Their private rooms were hidden away down a long corridor on the far side of the room. Their lounging room was large and open. Ceilings toward high above with intricate mosaics thousands of years old. The walls were just as intricately painted, gold and silver plating enclosing specific portrayals of Kovux history.

Rugs covered the floor. The walls were lined with couches and lounging chairs. Draped across them were the lounging bodies of beautiful young women and men from around the Federation. There were ten women and ten men. Young, beautiful bodies trained for a single purpose.

He was observed closely by dark, heavy lidded eyes. A slender body pushed itself up from a red, velvet couch, and slowly sway over. Reygyet smiled at her. He ran the backs of his ring clad fingers over her olive skin. His thumb ran across her lower lip.

"Kalitex," he greeting.

"My Lord," she replied. "What can I do for you?"

She circled around him, pressed her hands to his chest, and ran them tantalizingly down his torso.

"Alas, I've no time for pleasure," he answered. He took her hand and kissed the palm. "You've heard we have visitors?"

"Confederates they say. Impossible, yes?" she said. Her eyes were almond shaped, her lips cherry red. He let a hand slide down the small of her back.

"Quite possible," he answered. "I want you to tell the others, we need information."

"Of what sort?" she asked.

"Anything you can get. I have no doubt you can get a satisfied man to talk," he smirked. His hand ventured downward. She giggled and gripped the gold chain around his neck.

"I have received no gifts from you in so long…" she pouted.

"Greedy girl," he scolded lightly. "Talk to them? Any and all information comes to me first."

"Of course," she replied. "Is it true they have blue eyes…?" She bit her bottom lip and pressed herself closer to him.

"You will not make me jealous, darling," he answered. He tapped his earlobe with a ringed finger. "Ears open."

"Of course, my lord." She slunk away from him. He looked toward his favorite boy. He gave a quick wink and turned away. He walked down the hall, twisting the ring around his thumb, a satisfied smile on his face.


	2. TWO

The heavy doors closed behind them with a heavy thud. Illiast glanced at Ragmyre to make sure he would get right to work. He walked around the room with the scanner, face set seriously. Illiast looked from Rantonnen, to Driat, to Horrens. Horrens had a smile on his face, a devious twinkle in his eye. Rantonnen and Driat were nodding slowly, small smiles on their own lips.

Ragmyre paused in a corner. A monitor lay there, screen black. Ragmyre moved on and finished the room. He said with absolute confidence, "We're clear." He hit a button and rested and the scanner on the table. "Signal lockout."

Horrens allowed a slow chuckle to break past his smiling lips and he leaned forward at the waist with arms bent across his chest.

"Some friction, I dare say?" Illiast asked his inner circle. Even Rantonnen allowed himself to join in on the mild laughter.

"I think it safe to say there is resentment between Queen and counsellors."

"They believe their Royalty infallible," Ragmyre explained. He sat himself in the corner. He was flipping through his monitor.

"Dangerous, when your Queen is a child," Driat mused. "This plan of yours… appears to be more within our reach than I initially believed."

"It is possible…" Rantonnen took a breath. He continued with barely concealed disgust, "that we will not have to get her off planet. It is possible, we won't even need to shut down the palace. If His Grace can get into Her Majesty's ear…"

"And between her legs," Horrens murmured to Ragmyre in the corner. The two shared a silent smile. Rantonnen cast a glare and moved on.

"… She may make the decision to create an alliance all her own."

"We must step back and consider what we have learned," Driat said, lifting a hand. "We must not get ahead of ourselves. The reports of the Queen's age are true. She is young. Between fifteen and eighteen I would estimate. She is surrounded by sycophants –"

" – There is nothing to suggest their devotion is not genuine," Ragmyre cut in. "As I have said, they believe their royalty infallible, inspired and touched by their One True God –"

"Goddess," Horrens corrected.

"God," Ragmyre repeated, casting a disparaging glare to show his disdain at being corrected. "The Federation believes in a single God, with two forms, male and female, and that duality is embodied within their rulers. She is the Eternal Goddess. The Emperor, the Eternal God."

"I stand corrected," Horrens gave a tight smile.

"As I was saying –," Ragmyre snapped.

"As _I_ was saying," Driat cut back in. "They might well believe she is this Goddess –"

" – Embodies the Goddess – "

"But they also clearly recognize the fragility in her youth. No matter their education, a youth is driven by impulse… feeling… _hormones…"_ He paused. "Do we not remember young Governor Olerit?"

Horrens nodded thoughtfully. Ragmyre was already pulling up the history on his monitor, incase anyone make the mistake of misstating a fact in front of him.

"All it took was a cunning and beautiful woman and he gave his planet over to the Ullusians'."

"Elia was a far greater ruler tan Olerit ever would have been. She did that planet a favor."

"As we will do now," Illiast said. "We feed on her obvious resentment of her advisors, her inexperience, and her… baser needs."

"I do not pity you your mission, Your Grace," Horrens gave a small smile.

"… Rulers are revered in Federation Space," Ragmyre said. Illiast looked at him "She will not support an insurrection."

Illiast responded. "I am but a faithful servant of the established authority, come to a sovereign to help maintain order in my sector."

"That is the role to play," Rantonnan agreed gravely. "By the time we arrive in Irkadia and she learns the truth, she'll have given birth to an heir."

"Pray for a boy," Horrens said. "Or we best make sure we arrive home with two."

"The Federation makes no distinction between male or female," Ragmyre said. "A woman is just as revered as any man. Make no mistake, their concern surrounding her rule is grounded in her _age_ not her sex. A child will give us legitimacy, whether or not the child is girl or boy."

"If I can get her to come with me willingly…" he considered. "It is a delicate situation. We will be careful. And I will know much more once I've dined with her."

"She is not Empress," Rantonnan grumbled. "I cannot see how we look passed this."

"She has complete control of planetary forces…"

"You believe she will leave her planet defenseless to travel two years _at light speed through dark space?"_

"The Emperor is old…"

"And by all accounts healthy," Ragmyre offered.

"We can speculate here all day," Illiast snapped, angered by the constant reminder of how precarious his position truly was. "Until we have more information, we're groping in the dark. I need to think. We will reconvene before I dine with her. I want advice, based on what we observed of her, on how best to approach the situation. I do not want more speculation. Tell me what to do _now._ Is that clear?"

They all murmured their assent. Illiast gave a nod to Ragmyre and he shut down the signal lockout. Illiast walked over to the panel on the far side of the room. The language was foreign to him. He hit a green button. A light flashed. A bronze man appeared on screen, perfectly hairless.

" _Tyetich."_

"When will I be shown into my room?" Illiast asked, voice clipped and harsh. The screen flickered off. Before he could find his rage, there was a curt knocking on the door. They swung open slowly. Inside stepped the hairless man.

"Please follow me, _Tyetich,_ " he said. His voice was high and tinny. He had sharp angles, smooth skin. He had a very effeminate manner about him. He stepped into the hall, leaving his advisors within. Two of his guard stepped from the hall they had been standing against. They followed close by. They had been given their weapons back after leaving the throne room.

The hairless man lead him down the corridor. It was in the center of the building. The walls were covered with rich tapestries, depicting what he believed to be the history of Kovux. In all the tapestries that covered the wall, from towering ceiling above to the cool stone below his feet, the leaders were front and center, depicted as great warriors, saviors of the people, divine.

They turned a corner and continued down another massive corridor. The door they arrived at was not as large as the doors that lead to the more impressive rooms within the palace, but once the doors swung open, a grand suit was revealed. The floors were cold marble, the walls polished limestone. Opulent rugs covered the floor. Gold and silver plating encased the portraits of current rules on the far wall, and the windows on the opposite side of the room were opened to reveal the magnificent view of the desert mountains far to the west.

His feet carried him directly to the window and his eyes scanned the horizon. Both suns were to his right, giving him a well lit and painless view. "Is that snow on the mountains?"

"White sand, _Tyetich,_ " the hairless man replied.

"No wind?" Illiast asked.

"Wind, _Tyetich_?"

"The sand does not blow off to reveal the stone beneath?" he asked.

"I do not understand you."

"The mountain, how the sand remain on top?"

"That is a sand dune, _Tyetich,_ not a mountain."

Illiast's lips parted. "A dune… of that size?"

"They get larger deeper into the desert," the hairless man said, a tinge of amusement in his voice. Illiast thought of the mountains on Altononen. He felt a stab of homesickness in his chest. He missed the towering mountains of ice, the sheer cliff faces, the blistering winds. He shook the thought of it from his mind. He would return home. All in good time.

"The bedroom here, _Tyetich,"_ the hairless man broke him from his musings. He indicated a well hidden door beside a gold plated control panel. "The washroom, here. Can I assist you with anything before I leave?"

"When will I be brought before the Queen?"

"She will send someone for you when she is ready."

"When will she be ready?"

"One does not ask the Queen when she might be ready… but she usually eats her evening meal at the seventh hour."

Illiast glanced at the clock reader on the wall and nodded. "Thank you. I require nothing else."

He was left alone. He removed his tunic, but was careful not to disrupt any of the medals. He draped it carefully across a dining table, large enough to seat eight, and grabbed a nearby cloth. Two pools of water were fastened to the wall. Steam was coming up from the basin to the right. The basin on the left was ice cold. He cupped the cold water in his hands and brought it to his lips. It was heaven on his parched throat. He drabbed at himself with the hot water. He still smelled of his cologne and soap, but he felt the sweat of his undershirt sticking to him. He dunked a cup into the cold water and walked over to the windows. He gazed out at the massive dune in the distance.

_Sand. All sand._

He turned his thoughts toward the Queen. Against his will, his blood began to heat and his skin itched. He forced it to the back of his head. He needed to remain clear headed. Time for lust could come later, when the job was done and he had he sprawled out on the satin sheets of his flagship suite.

She harbored great resentment for her advisors. She had a fiery temper. She was young and, unless his own personal conceit had clouded his vision, had appeared to be quite taken with his foreign appearance. It was not a lot of information, but it was enough for a good start.

He found his bedroom. The room was marble, the rugs on the floor plush and ornate, the bed large and opulent. Leaving his boots on, draping his legs over the edge of the bed, and laid down on the cool quilts. He stared up at the ceiling. Paintings of great battles. They're propaganda covered the walls and ceilings as art.

This girl-Queen would believe the propaganda. He felt a quick burst of concern, but it quickly faded. It would work to their advantage if he was intelligent. _Your advisors do not treat you as though you were infallible,_ he might murmur to her after they've finished his gift of spiced wine. He could trail a finger down her high cheek bones, gently caress the silky, bronze skin.

That would be far too forward. Young but not stupid. He would need to remember that. She would be warned against manipulation of that sort. _Tell me of your government, Your Majesty._ Let her open the door. Let her tell him how to best proceed. Her temper and pride might fuel itself.

He fought against the wanderings of his mind. He could not allow desire to cloud his thoughts but two years without the soft touch of a woman had taken its toll, and the reports of her beauty had not been oversold. His lids grew heavy. Cool air was being pushed through vents from above. Goosebumps rippled over his bare arms. He reveled in the cold. He forced his thoughts away from the soft curves the Queen's ornate gown had hidden from his view and thought of the flat jagged valleys of ice on Altononen, the towering mountains, the howling, whipping wind. When this was all over, and he was Emperor of the Known Universe it was where he'd build his palace.

* * *

Saphyria gazed at herself in the mirror critically. She was stripped down from the ornate gown she had worn to receive the strange visitors. She wore only her white linen slip. Her hair was down. A servant stood behind her, carefully combing the long, silky locks. She had calmed down some from the earlier meeting, though her annoyance still simmered deep within her chest.

"I've a blemish," she mused softly. She touched her chin. "Just here."

"Hardly a spot, Your Majesty," Xelia comforted. "It can hardly be seen. You have such glorious skin."

Saphyria pursed her lips. _Yes, I have glorious everything,_ she thought bitterly. If only someone would speak to her plainly.

"What shall I get for you, Eternal Goddess?" Korinia asked. She had opened the heavy marble doors of her closet and had stepped inside.

"The red… backless, and the wrap," she said.

"Your hair, Majesty?"

"Up," she said with a dismissive wave of the a hand. "Parted in the middle."

"The earrings?" Korvias asked, holding up a pair by her face. Saphyria nodded and continued to star at herself forlornly in the mirror.

"Are they very handsome?" Korinia asked as she came out of her gowns room with the red gown draped over her arm.

"Blue eyes?" Korvias giggled. Saphyria caught her gaze in the mirror and smiled.

"They are quite exotic," Saphyria admitted. She reached up to touch the golden sun that hung around her neck. She thought of the penetrating gaze of those gray/blue eyes. She felt a little tremor of excitement over their coming meal. Her advisors, she knew, had tried to meet with her. She had left orders she was not to be disturbed. She would meet with this _Tyetich_ and she would act as the supreme power she was. She would show the _Tyetich_ that _she_ was the Queen. She ruled all. If he wanted something from her planet, he would need to make the request of _her._

"They are tall," she remembered. "The _Tyetich_ is towering."

"Oh, I wish I could have seen them," Korvias sighed.

"You will see them before they depart, I am sure of that," she said. "What have you heard?"

"We will know more once Kalitex is finished."

Her eyes darted up to Xelia's in the mirror.

"They've not been here four hours, are these newcomers so insatiable?"

"They will be offered tonight," Xelia replied. Saphyria pinched her lips together. Her face burned red.

"Did you hear this from Kalitex?" Saphyria asked. Reygyet was her staunchest supporter amongst her advisors, but Kalitex was his creature, that he knew.

"From Dulos, My Queen, who he was told by, I do not know."

"Dulos told you this and you did not think to tell me?" she shouted, surprising her maids. "Why do you think he told you!"

They all hit the floor with their knees, hands raised in supplication.

"Forgive me, your majesty! Visitors are always provided with girls I… I did not think this any different." She began to weep. Saphyria closed her eyes and leaned against the back of her chair.

"Get up, all of you," she ordered. They all obeyed, but Xelia, who crouched at her side and took hold of her hands. She pressed her wet face to the backs of her hands and placed kisses to her rings.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, my Eternal Goddess, I beg you. I am unworthy of your love, I –"

"Please rise, Xelia, you are forgiven," she said.

"Oh, thank you, Majesty! Thank you!"

"My hair, Xelia, please, it will not do itself."

Xelia got to her feet. She continued to brush her hair. Her hands trembled, but they soon steadied themselves.

Saphyria ordered the hair curled inward at either side on the back of her head. The long silky locks hung over her shoulder.

As she was dressed, her mind wandered to the _Tyetich._ She was curious to see what it was he wanted, what had been happening in Irkadia at the time they had left. Her father would need to know this. Communication was instant, but travel had not advanced in nearly a thousand years. Since the discovery of light speed, the top scientists in the universe had been unable to progress further. There had been searches for tears in time and space. Those searches had proved unfruitful. Theories concerning the ability to bend space were being pursued aggressively, but all it had been able to accomplish was an atomic explosion that had killed all of the twenty thousand on the scientific space station, and approximately three quarters of the planet's population it orbited. In total, a loss of 20.5 million people. The planet to this day was still uninhabitable.

Her father wanted a full report from her tomorrow. She had to get as much information as possible tonight. She wanted to make her father proud.

The wrap was placed over her left shoulder. Her right remained bare. It was wrapped twice, the frayed ends draped across her chest. The dress was a dark red, embroidered with white and gold. It brought out the warm tan of her skin, her dark eyes popped from the dark liner around them.

"Do you want the wrap over your head, Majesty?" Korinia asked. Saphyria examined herself in the mirror.

"Am I desirable to men?" she asked her ladies. They fell over themselves with their compliments of her. She gazed at herself in the mirror as they continued to compliment her, a budding smile coming to her lips.

* * *

"Ah! _Tyetich!_ "

The voice was that of the old advisor the Queen had gotten into a rage about. Round, red faced, puffing. Illiast paused, hand on his abdomen, and turned to greet the man waddling down the hall after him. The hairless man clasped his hands before him and bowed his head as the advisor grew close.

"Lord Xagos," Illiast greeted with a tight smile. "Will you be joining me in my dinner with the Queen after all?"

"Oh, no," Xagos replied. The tightening of his mouth and the crinkling of the wrinkles around his eyes indicated an angry embarrassment had settled itself over the aging advisor. "Her Eternal Glory has not deigned it so, I regret."

"A pity," Illiast replied.

"Indeed.. may I walk with you?" he asked.

"Please."

"You are about to be frightfully warm, _Tyetich,_ " he observed. They began their walk down the hall.

"I admit, I am unused to such extreme heat."

"Your planet is quite cold?"

They stepped up to a large door. The hairless man hit a few buttons. There was a soft hum and then a soft thud as the door lifted up from the ground. Hot hair blew in through the door, whipping grains of sand up around their feet. The door lifted further until the hot sun peered in from the lifting door. Illiast lifted a hand and squinted.

"Forty five degrees Celsius today, _Tyetich,"_ Xagos told him with a smug smile plastered to his red face. He retrieved a handkerchief of orange silk and dabbed his forehead. "At the height of day, the temperature can approach fifty five."

Illiast stepped out after the hairless man-servant. They were the upper level of the palace, crossing over a narrow bridge the Queen's personal apartments. The two fiery orbs hung low in the sky, they beat down hard on this dismal planet. Already his skin was flushed.

"How long do you plan on staying with us?" he asked. The old advisor was examining him closely. He was running his dark eyes over the flushing skin of the newcomer, eyes critical.

"As long as the Queen allows," he answered. "Until I have my answer."

"We would not be able to commit to any sort of fighting force without a _thorough_ report of the conflict. To send away our soldiers… so far away at that… two years at light speed…"

Illiast stopped and pinned the advisor with a cold glare.

"All things to discuss… with the Queen."

"The Queen is…" the advisor cut himself off, realizing what it was he was about to say. "The Queen…" he began more measured. "is under a great amount of stress. She –"

" – Is waiting," Illiast replied. He paused and stepped closer to Xagos. He spoke in a low voice, "It is my understanding that Federation Royalty is infallible. It would not suit me well to be seen negotiating with an advisor in darkened hallways, when the Queen made it clear to me, she wished to speak with me separately. Though I in no way wish to demean your position or disrespect a counsellor, I have nothing but respect for such a position… you must forgive the precariousness of my position."

The old man's eyes widened slightly. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. "Oh, yes," he said with excited surprise. "Perhaps, I might show you around our glorious city tomorrow? We may discuss things further."

"Such an escort would be much appreciated, sir. I am anxious to get a better look at the city."

"Yes, _Tyetich,"_ Lord Xagos smiled. He bowed his head. Illiast examined the man closely, saw the glow of triumph in his dark gaze. Illiast watched him back away with a tight smile. It would be a dangerous game to betray him so soon to the hot-tempered Queen. If would not be a bad thing to have both the Queen and her council has potential allies.

He glanced at the hairless man, waiting patiently by the half wall of the roof walk, hands clasped behind him, head bowed, eyes fixed carefully on the floor. This hairless man was the Queen's creature. He made up his mind immediately.

"If we could get out of this heat," Illiast asked with a sideways smile. The hairless man nodded and continued on down the roof walk. Illiast retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his forehead. It was a little less than a hundred yards to the other door. Illiast tried to examine the town below, but he found his mouth was already too dry, his head was beginning to ache. The hairless man hit a few buttons and the outer doors began to open. Cool air rushed out of the tunnel within and Illiast closed his eyes. He hunched underneath he still opening doors to get some relief.

The hairless man had a ghost of a smile on his lips as he stepped inside after him. He shut the doors first, and then opened the inner chamber. The inner hall was much the same as the other side of the palace. Marble and polished sandstone, beautiful tapestries hanging from the walls, intricate paintings on the ceilings.

He was lead into a little waiting room. He examined the stories of battle that hung on the wall. A portrait of the Queen hung on the opposite wall. She looked beautiful, proud, and fierce. It was a glorious piece of propaganda. A soft hum filled the room. He looked up to see the vent in the corner, well hidden unless one looked for it. He stood and walked toward the vent. He stood beneath the cool hair, face uplifted, eyes closed.

Slowly, the door on the far side began to open beneath a tapestry. It was hidden so well, Illiast jumped violently in surprise. He only hoped it was not so drastic it would have been caught on camera.

" _Tyetich,"_ the hairless man held the curtain to the side. "Her Eternal Glory will see you now."

With a nod of thanks and a familiar itch returning to his bones, he stepped inside.

* * *

Orif-iq starred at the monitor in front of him, hand over his mouth, eyes tired and aching from a long night studying reports of the Altononen unrest. He glanced up as Saal-Rasadi entered the room and sat down on the other end of the long table. His eyes darted back down to the monitor.

"We made a mistake," Orif-iq broke the silence.

"We had no choice," Saal said in disgust. The images on the monitor reflected in the glassy brown of Orif-iq's bloodshot eyes. Beatings, smoke filling the underground cities below the ice, fires erupting beneath the ice.

"It's been two years," Orif-iq muttered beneath his palm. "And there's been not a moment's rest on Altononen. With Gadyre still alive –"

"You voted for exile," Saal reminded him.

"It was a mistake," Orif-iq murmured. He removed his hand from his mouth and leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps… perhaps we acted too hastily –"

"Gadyre is a cruel, sadistic, tyrant," Saal remined him. The cool gray door opened and Lynnir entered the room, grim faced, a thick stack of reports tucked under his arm. He paused in the door way, shot an angry glare at both men in the room, and plopped down at his seat.

"Good morning," Saal said somewhat flippantly.

"There is no morning in space," he snapped. He slapped a chip into the projector, readying for the days reports.

Orif-iq ignored the two and watched the next set of clips. Men in white, running across the jagged stretch of the Elloryse expanse, marching through the sub-freezing temperatures before they descend into their hidden ice caverns beneath the surface. No one from the Senate knew what lay below in those icy caverns. No one off planet knew that secret, and they guarded it carefully.

"Are you pleased with the new reports, Consul Lythic?" Lynnir asked Orif-iq. He darted his glassy eyes upward to pin Lynnir with a vicious glare. In the passed two years, Lynnir had asked Orif-iq that question every day.

"Was I the only one to vote for exile?" Orif-iq asked. It was the same answer he gave every time.

"You were the deciding vote," Lynnir said, giving special to the last consonant in the word vote.

"Will you two shut up," Saal snapped. "We are well passed that."

Orif-iq put the hand back to his mouth and watched the next clip. He sat forward, unable to fight the compulsion to defend himself. "If we had him killed, these uprising would be ten times what it is now."

"After two years the fight would have left them," Lynnir answered back, voice sharp. His thin lips turned almost white as he pressed them together tightly. His almost yellow eyes were darting rapidly over Orif-iq's face. "We gave them _hope_."

The doors opened and Skyrritz and Mitolin stepped into the room. They both wore their solemn black suits, pale faces withdrawn and tired. They took their seats beside each other and said nothing. Lynnir continued pushing the chips into place. He was out numbered now. The two Consuls, one from Oritz, and the other from it's moon, Gamma Prime, had both voted for exile. They were speaking to each other in their native language in soft, hushed tones.

Another explosion illuminated in Orif-iq's eyes. Para-troopers entered the room. Bodies fell immobilized on the ground, muscles numbed or stunned. As the rest of the table filled in, no one spoke. Everyone reviewed their notes and reports. Occasionally, someone would lean over and murmur softly to a nearby companion. Once, Skyrritz rose and walked over to Orif-iq. He crouched down, hand on his shoulder, and squeezed. His voice was hushed and low. Lynnir glared from across the table.

Maoji Lahm entered the room just before ten. He sat at the end of the table. He too looked tired. His dark eyes were blood shot, his face wrinkled and haggard. He sat down with a soft breath and began to organize his files. Everyone fell silent, allowing the Speaker to settle in and organize his thoughts. At precisely ten in the morning, he cleared his throat and spoke in his low rumble.

"Speaker Lahm calls this session forward. Present are all Consuls. For the record, state your names, starting with my right."

Twenty five in all, they went around the room. When it got back to Lahm, he nodded grimly. "Lynnir, please."

Lynnir got to his feet, caressing the projector control with his thumb by his side. "Thank you, Speaker. Last night, we received our reports of another Altononen progress in the northern regions of the planet. Some ten thousand civilians turned on the Confederate forces shuttling in food. Ten soldiers killed, three hundred captured. The food was seized, approximately twenty tons. After taking a small portion for the city, the leaders then took the remaining portions and had them transported into the Expanse, where we believe the majority of the fighting force is in hiding underneath the caverns."

He punched a button and a number of pictures illuminated in the middle of the table. "It is estimated, that along with this newest seizure, the rebels will be able to remain in the Expanse for another five years, assuming our reports on their numbers are correct."

He hit another button. Pictures of the Capital appeared. There were masses of people standing before the line of Confederate forces, faces contorted with vitriolic hatred as they hurled whatever they could get their hands on at the flickering shields. He hit another button. Orif-iq closed his eyes at the image that appeared before them.

"Last night alone there have been three hundred and eighty four civilian casualties. It is believed that they are dressing in the Altononen military and militia soldiers and purposefully acting in … suspicious ways as to draw attention of our forces."

"Have the civilians fired upon the Confederate forces?" Skyrritz asked. His voice was dinner, his face pale, his eyes small. Lynnir swallowed.

"No. There have been no direct attacks by civilians on our forces… however –"

"I am uncomfortable continuing a total blackout of the situation on Altononen. I believe it is time we lift the embargo," Mitolin suggested to the horror of the many of the other Consuls seated around the table.

"The unrest that would bring –"

"And start a full blown rebellion throughout Confederation Space? What if the Federation catches wind of this?" Farrian asked.

"The Federation will know nothing of this until this matter is well settled," Orif-iq dismissed.

"Other planets will turn against the Senate. Already the outer systems have showed distrust. Gideon Gamma, Elsoiam Major _and_ Minor –"

"Our people have a right to know!" the Consul from Gideon Gamma shouted. "They have a right to know Confederate soldiers are slaughtering a planet's sovereign people!"

"Oritz should know," Skyrritz agreed.

"That vote is not on the table," Eymol snapped.

"Do we know where Gadyre went?" Yarzil asked. "Perhaps… if we invited him back –"

"Invite him back!" half the Consuls erupted. "After what he had planned!"

"We have no way of knowing if he would follow through!"

"He was found guilty! For the purpose of debate it is presumed fact!"

"Everyone! Silence!" Speaker Lahm shouted. "There is no vote on the table. Today is for briefing. Tomorrow we may make motions and begin debate. Until Consul Lynnir is finished, I want silence. Is that understood."

Everyone fell quiet. Lahm looked to Lynnir. He gave a curt nod. Lynnir cleared his throat and hit the button. The next image of the stacks of dead children appeared on the screen. Orif-iq forced himself to look at the screen. Lynnir continued with his report. Casualties, civilian mood on the planet's surface. Orif-iq felt a tingling on the back of his neck. He darted his eyes to the side. Skyrittz was staring at him, eyes narrowed and searching. Orif-iq looked away.

"And lastly, we have the current Governor, Adymire. Though we have been unable to give an accurate poll because of the current strife on the planet, it is estimated his popularity is, at the lowest, five percent, and, at it's highest… twenty one. Generals on the ground a proposing a change in leadership."

"Anything to add, Lynnir?"

"No, Speaker."

"You are all dismissed. We reconvene tomorrow at 0800 hours. Come ready with you proposals. And rest well. Tomorrow may be a long day." Speaker Lahm rose. Everyone around the table did the same.

Orif-iq remained in the conference room. He put his files together slowly. Skyrritz and Mitolin remained. Once the room was empty, they sat on either side of him. They hunched forward and spoke softly.

"Governor Gadyre was much loved by his people," Mitolin murmured. "He was a fine leader."

"Better than that fool Lahm," Skyrritz agreed.

"What Gadyre did was unforgivable," Orif-iq replied. "We cannot forget that."

"Unforgivable," Mitolin repeated.

"Unforgivable," Syrritz agreed.

Orif-iq did not believe they believed that as strongly as they should. "I do believe something must be done," he murmured. "But the Federation cannot know. The blackout must remain."

"And what must be done?" Skyrritz asked.

"I don't know," Orif-iq answered. He shook his head. "I don't know."

Skyrritz stood. Mitolin followed. He patted Orif-iq on the shoulder and exited the room.

Once outside of the conference room, Skyrritz and Mitolin switched to their native tongue, but continued to speak softly.

"The people or Oritz need to know," Skyrritz said.

"Yes, Gamma Prime also. They need to know," Mitolin agreed.

"And…a Governor… should know."

"Yes. A Governor should know."

The two shared a secret glance. Skyrritz brought up his middle and forefinger. He tapped the side of his nose twice. Mitolin gave a bow of his head and turned to walk down the hall, a smudge of black against the white walls.


End file.
